


Perchance to Dream.

by Josey (cestus)



Category: Vorkosigan Saga - Lois McMaster Bujold
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-19
Updated: 2011-02-19
Packaged: 2017-10-15 18:46:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/163782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cestus/pseuds/Josey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You really need to read the story which inspired this first or it won't really make sense.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perchance to Dream.

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [I Do, I Do....](https://archiveofourown.org/works/163766) by [Gwynne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gwynne/pseuds/Gwynne). 



Simon woke in a cold sweat, the echo of the dream ringing violently down his nerves. 'Not true,' his chip informed him, dowsing his fears with an infodump of analyst factoids concerning the Toscanes. Still his hands shook as he reached for his comlink. “Lucas, pull the security clearance on Imperial gift 16-A.”

“What?” Lucas' voice a moment later, tinny and sleep addled.

Simon bristled. “16A, that damned Vorfemme blade. I told him it was going too far-”

“The knife was presented yesterday. At the residence. You were there.”

Simon closed his eyes as the memories flooded in. The formal gathering. Lady Alys. The pink detail in the bouquet. Of course he'd been there. Of course.

“Are you all right, sir?”

“Yes, yes. Sorry to have disturbed you, Lucas. My nerves must finally be starting to show their age.”

A wry laugh. “If they were ever going to, this would be the time. Anything else I can do for you, sir?”

“No, just get a good night's sleep. It would be better if at least one of us can keep his head through all of this... palaver.”

“I will, sir. Sleep well.”

Simon sank slowly back onto his pillows, tugging the sheet higher up his chest. With one arm curled behind his head, he lay there staring the ceiling of his ImpSec guest quarters and allowed the adrenaline kick to slowly drain away. It was pointless trying to sleep until it had. The chip took the opportunity to start replaying the previous day's highlights as Simon customarily had it do during his morning ablutions. He forced his thoughts away, desiring something more human in these cold dark hours.

Silence, punctuated only by the pings and creaks of the old building, filled his ears, as mechanical and emotionless as the chip. I'm getting too old for this, he thought bleakly. I've had my fill of facts and hard choices. Of fear. Give me silence of different kind, and casual conversation. Laughter or even love, though it sometimes feels too late for that.

Maudlin poppycock! He snorted, grabbed his pillow in one fist and turned over, disgusted at the self-indulgence. A sure sign age was catching up when you start drifting down those old corridors. Eh, perhaps it was time to retire, after all. Once the wedding was over. Yes, perhaps he'd speak to the Emperor then. After the wedding.


End file.
